Kindness, Joy, Love and All the Other Intangibles
by Kathryn Adkins
Summary: It's Christmastime and Spike gets a very special present.


**Title: Kindness, Joy, Love and All the Other Intangibles**

**Author: **Princess Onion Petal_(Kathryn Adkins)_

**Rated: **NC-17

**Summary: **Set in mid-season 6, going AU after OMWF. Spike is helping the Summers' girls decorate for the holidays when he suddenly falls from a ladder clutching his chest in pain. Appearances by Giles, Anya, Xander, Willow, Tara and Dawn. Spuffy love, baby!

**Written for: **Pbrat as part of the BtVS Secret Santa project in the LiveJournal community.

**Disclaimer/Credit: **Joss, Mutant Enemy and all the blah blah blahs. Mr. Pao belongs to me. Yen Ching's is located on Green River Road in Evansville, IN. Title and closing line borrowed from _A Miracle on 34th Street. _Beta'd by the wonderful Authoress, Nebula! That should just about cover it.

"Deck the halls with gasoline... fa-la-la-la-laaaah... la-la-la-laaah..."

"Spike!" Buffy sharply admonished from the doorway. "Vampires who teach teen aged girls bastardized Christmas Carols don't get cocoa with little marshmallows."

He pulled a face at her before turning back to the stapling of icicle lights to the fascia of the Summers' house on Revello Drive. Dawn stood at the base of the ladder feeding him a steady supply of twinkling lights and encouragement as the uncommonly nippy night air brushed over her cheeks.

"Remind me again, Bit, how I got roped into playing Santa's Little Helper to the biggest Scrooge in SunnyHell?" he asked with smirk as Buffy disappeared back into the house.

"I wouldn't call her the biggest Scrooge, Spike," Dawn said in defense of her sister. "I think that distinct honor goes to Mr. Pao at Yen Ching's."

Dawn squinted her eyes and hunched over, raising a shaking finger to the bleached vampire standing above her.

"You go now! You eat too much! No Happy Horiday to you, Mistah Spike! No Melly Chlistmas!" she aped to her audience's delight. He nearly lost his footing as he doubled over in laughter.

"That was pretty funny, yeah?" he winked, remembering how he'd finished off the entire chafing dish of General Tso's chicken at the buffet the last time they were there.

"He who raughs rast, Mistah Spike... what the Hell was that supposed to mean?" she giggled, shaking her head.

"Git probably put some sort of curse on me with my luck," he shrugged.

Wo-Pang Pao sat in his tiny apartment above Yen Ching's restaurant smiling into the large glass orb in front of him.

"Oh, yes, Mistah Spike. You ruck about to ah... change," he whispered, his whole body beginning to shake with laughter.

"Bit, hand me up that stri-- arrrrggghhh!"

Dawn jumped as Spike let out an agonizing scream. He fell from the higher rungs of the ladder clutching his chest and she began screaming herself, incoherently calling for her sister. Buffy came running from the house, her heart racing from the urgency in Dawn's voice.

"Spike! What the Hell did you do to my--"

The Slayer stopped abruptly at the sight of the pained vampire writhing on her front lawn. She cautiously moved toward him, spying a faint glow coming from under where his hands were clutched over his chest.

"It burns, Buffy," he whimpered. "Burning a hole through me. Make it stop."

She carefully knelt beside him, Dawn peering nervously over her shoulder. She let her hand softly cover his and could feel the heat emanating from his chest.

"I-I don't know what to do," she admitted shakily. She turned and met her sister's questioning eyes. "I don't know what to do... call Giles, Dawn. And Willow and Tara."

She turned her attention back toward the trembling vampire as her sister ran inside to make the calls. His eyes were wide and pleading, but she didn't know how to stop the pain. She felt the warm flood of tears threatening her own eyes, realizing just how helpless she was.

"I don't know what to do," she repeated dumbly. "Tell me what to do, Spike."

The heat continued to bore through his normally chilled skin. He was afraid he'd combust from the inside and be nothing more than a pile of ashes under her palm.

"Just stay with me, please... Buffy," he pleaded with the rare use of her given name.

She nodded and grasped his hands a little more firmly. She could stay.

The sky had swirled with traces of greying clouds. Starlight peeked through like holes pin-punched through black construction paper and the slightest bit of the waxing moon showed through the increasing cloud cover from time to time. Buffy didn't know how long they stayed like that, him trembling beneath her hand, her staring into his frightened blue eyes. Something was changing. She couldn't figure out what it was, but something in his eyes became more and more haunted as the stand-still of time hovered around them.

"Buffy, what happened here?"

Giles' concerned voice cut through the thick night air. He took residence beside Buffy, kneeling over the unusually still vampire's body.

"I'm not sure... I was making cocoa and then there was screaming and I came out and he was like this and... I don't know, Giles. He says it burns," she couldn't stop the trail of tears making their way down her cheeks.

"We were hanging Christmas lights, Giles," Dawn told him, trying to remain calm. "We were singing Christmas Carols and... and Buffy came out and told him to stop teaching me bastardized carols..."

Buffy shot her sister an apologetic glance.

"And then Spike said something about Buffy being the biggest Scrooge in Sunnydale... and I said no, that would be Mr. Pao from Yen Ching's..."

Dawn caught the annoyed glare that replaced any apology formerly shining in her sister's eyes.

"And then I started doing my Mr. Pao imitation..."

"You do a Mr. Pao imitation?" Buffy found herself asking. "How come I've never seen your Mr. Pao imitation?"

Dawn shrugged her sister off and continued telling Giles what had happened.

"Spike made some crack about Mr. Pao putting a curse on him and then he started to ask me for another string of lights and let out this freaky yell that scared the bejesus out of me. That's when I started screaming, I think," Dawn finished.

"What would make him think Mr. Pao put a curse on him?" Giles wondered aloud, shining a penlight into the vampire's unseeing eyes.

"Mr. Pao said something about he who laughs last when we were leaving," she replied.

"Spike," Giles called to the unmoving vamp. He shook him lightly by the shoulders. "Spike, can you hear me?"

He slowly nodded.

"The light seems to have dimmed," Buffy pointed out. "His chest, it isn't as hot."

Her hand was still resting on his, her fingers curled around the edges of his palm. She let her eyes glide up his body until they rested on his face. The tears were starting to slide out of the corners of his eyes and down the sides of his head. She saw it again; something in his eyes that she'd never seen before and she just couldn't place.

"Can we rest, Buffy?" he whispered, his lips barely moving. "Please, can we rest?"

There was a desperation in his voice that tore through her heart. She ran her other hand lightly over his hair and he locked his eyes on hers, letting her know that he saw her, that he was there with her. She nodded, not knowing what else to do.

"Where is this Mr. Pao, Dawn?" Giles asked the teenager who had been watching quietly over her best friend.

"Yen Ching's. It's across from the Espresso Pump. He lives over the restaurant," Dawn told him. "Giles, you don't... I mean, we were just joking around."

"Leave no stone unturned, Dawn," he told her.

"Buffy! What happened?" Willow ran up the lawn, Tara close behind her.

"Help me get him into the house and I'll give you the what," she told the two witches before turning to her Watcher. "Giles, take Dawn with you. She knows where Mr. Pao lives. And please... keep your cell phone turned on in case we need you."

"Very well, Buffy," he nodded. "Come along, Dawn."

The witches and the Slayer carefully helped Spike to his feet and into the house. He seemed to be regaining coherence, but he was still shaking and silent.

"Do you want me to set up the cot in the basement?" Willow asked.

"No!" Buffy replied a little too urgently. "I, uh, I'd just feel better with him up here on the couch where I can keep an eye on him."

Willow nodded with a small smile. Tara moved to sit beside the reclining vampire on the couch. She ghosted her hands over his chest, her eyes closed as she breathed in deeply. Her hands stopped to hover over the spot from which the light had first emanated.

"Here," she announced, eyes still closed.

"Yes," Buffy affirmed. "That's where it was... where it burned."

Tara placed her hand gently on his chest and concentrated. Willow and Buffy stood behind the couch watching the witch as she tried to suss out what had afflicted Spike. His eyes were trained on Buffy's and she saw a mixture of sadness, fear and strangely, relief shining back at her. He swallowed hard, afraid of her reaction to what he was just beginning to realize himself.

Tara felt the warm tears falling from her closed eyes, wetting her eyelashes and splashing onto her warm cheeks. She could feel it inside of him, the spark. And with that spark, came an immense pain that was twisting him mercilessly.

She slowly opened her eyes and moved her hand from his chest to stroke his cheek.

"Have you figured it out yet?" she asked, her voice soft like a mother who was trying to soothe her small child.

He nodded, the tears starting to well up in his eyes again.

"It's okay, Spike," she told him. "That's not who you are any more. You made that choice without this."

He wanted to believe the good witch.

"Then why does it hurt so much, Glinda?"

His voice cracked as he began to sob in earnest. Tara pulled him up to her and held him tightly as he shook in her arms. She stroked his hair as he continued to question her.

"I did those things," he keened. "I did them! I'm a bad, rude man!"

"No, you're not, Spike," she assured him. "A bad, rude man could never feel such pain from the weight resting on this soul."

Buffy froze at Tara's words. Soul? Tara had to be mistaken. He was a vampire. Vampires were evil, soulless things. Angel had a soul , she reminded herself. She had loved Angel. Even after finding out just how ruthless Angelus had been. Spike made the decision to stop taking human lives on his own. He made that decision without a soul. He made it for her and for Dawn.

"How can you--"

"Because I can, Buffy," Tara told her, looking at her over Spike's shoulder. "And you can, too."

Tara was right. Buffy had seen the change in his eyes as it took over his body, beginning as a bright burn and ending as warm, steady pulse. But she couldn't fathom how.

Tara released Spike and smiled at him.

"How about that cocoa that Buffy was making you earlier?" she offered.

"With the little marshmallows?" he asked sheepishly.

Tara stood and shot Buffy a smile and wink.

"I think I can manage some little marshmallows," she told him. "I bet Willow wouldn't mind whipping up some of her famous redemption chocolate chip cookies, too."

"I was thinking the same thing," Willow grinned, sensing the need for Buffy and Spike to spend some time alone. She and Tara slipped quietly into the kitchen.

Buffy approached Spike nervously. What do you say to someone who had just gotten his soul back? She sat on the edge of the couch, her leg brushing his. He pulled away from her like he had brushed against a hot stove.

"I-I'm sorry," she muttered, not sure why she was apologizing.

"No need," he said, rubbing his temples so hard she thought he'd push his fingers straight through to his brain.

"Does it still burn?" she asked.

"Not so much," he admitted.

The burn was gone. But the pain had begun to set in. The kills of a hundred years flooded his memory and his soul. He could so clearly see them, the Scourge of Europe, making gleeful kills of thousands of innocents.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking with each word.

Buffy furrowed her brow and studied his face, trying to figure out why he was apologizing. Was it for changing the words to beloved carols and teaching them to her sister? Was it for scaring her half to death?

"It's... it's okay," she told him. "It's for the carols, right?"

He shook his head and let out a shaky laugh.

"Yeah," he nodded. "The carols. And, oh, let's see... the kidnapping of your friends. And for the dozen or so times I tried to kill you. Oh, I know. The time I tried to bite Red in the dorms. And stealing the Gem of Amarra. That was a real winning plan. Then there's the thousands of lives I stole away!"

He was shouting, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. Buffy didn't know what to do. She tried rubbing his back, but he flinched away, curling up in the far corner of the sofa.

"Spike, please... you have to calm down," she tried.

He stared at her through wide, glassy eyes. She had no idea what she was asking. Calm down. Hadn't he been calm enough when he sucked the life out of countless young men and women? Hadn't he calmly told them no when they pleaded and begged for him to stop?

Slowly, he pulled his black t-shirt up to bare his chest to her. He hung his head shamefully refusing to meet her questioning eyes.

"Do it," he begged. "Please. Just do it."

"No," she told him, astonished by what he wanted her to do.

"Slayer," he demanded. "Do it. It's what you do. It's who you are."

"No," she said again, her voice thick with unexpected emotion.

"Why won't you? Think of the little girls, no older than Dawn, Slayer. I drank them dry. I stole away their very breaths," he cried in defeat. "Do it for them. Be their avenger, Slayer."

The tears started falling from her horrified eyes and she reached out to cup his cheek gently. He was everything she was supposed to hate. He was what she was chosen to destroy, yet all she wanted to do was hold him to her and tell him everything would be alright. She took the hem of the t-shirt from his hands and pulled it back down.

"I can't."

Her voice came out so quietly that she barely registered it as her own. She thought about all of the things he had done since she first met him at the Bronze all those years ago. So many were stake-worthy. But the ones that weren't stood out most in her mind. Spike kept his promises. He loved with his whole heart. He embraced everything with a gleeful spirit. He was the embodiment of the sexiest man on earth and the shyest little boy she'd ever seen. He had such a unique relationship with her sister that it made her heart expand with joy and constrict with jealousy at the same time. He had charmed her mother into making him an honorary Summers. And he'd been the one to save Joyce's life when she fell ill. He'd smelled the change before the doctors could have ever diagnosed it.

"It's just because I have a soul," he said, his voice just as hushed as hers.

"No," she disagreed.

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair. She had no idea what she was saying. It was the soul. Probably made her think of the Great Pouf. Bollocks, is that what she saw him as now?

"Still evil," he ascertained, straightening his spine. "Did awful things. And I recall enjoying every bit of it."

"You'd rip Dawn's throat out and roll around on her bloody corpse?" she challenged.

The look on his face was one of complete abjection.

"Shit, Buffy... no," he vowed. "I love the Bit more than..."

He stared into the depths of her eyes and saw something soft that he'd never seen in them.

"I love her, Buffy," he promised.

"So, you would have done that before?" she continued. "You know, while the two of you were singing carols and stringing lights?"

She caught the slight smile on his lips as he ducked his head.

"Giles will figure this out, Spike," she told him.

She moved closer to him, her face just inches from him. She didn't want to think any more. She just wanted to feel. Her lips brushed over his, tentatively at first, taking them both by surprise. Before he had a chance to react, she pushed her tongue into his mouth, tasting the unique flavor that was Spike. She remembered it from the time Willow had cast a spell and they had been engaged. She remembered the gentleness and the sweetness of his mouth on hers. She moved closer, still, moaning as his tongue dueled with hers cooling her heated mouth.

He suddenly pulled away from her, terrified as to where this was going. He had just one thought in his mind: Angelus.

"Call your Watcher, Pet," he insisted. "Call him now. We need to know what kind of mojo was put on me."

"Just beat it out of him, Ripper!" Dawn egged on the alter-ego she'd heard just enough about.

Giles rolled his eyes and cast an annoyed glare at the riled up teenager.

"Dawn, please refrain from calling me Ripper," he told her. "And I would prefer to use my words as weapons unless otherwise necessary."

"Whatever," Dawn shrugged, pushing past him to walk up the stairs to Mr. Pao's apartment.

She knocked loudly and was rewarded with a muffled string of Chinese obscenities as Mr. Pao made his way to the door. He opened the door to see who was there, leaving the chain firmly latched.

"Ah, you! Mistah Spike fliend," he accused, knowing exactly why she was on his doorstep. "You go now, rittle girl! This between me and Mistah Spike."

Dawn shivered, wishing she had grabbed a jacket. She fixed the skittish Asian man with a cold glare.

"Open up, Mr. Pao or Ripper and I will kick in your bloody door," she threatened in her most menacing voice.

Mr. Pao raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected the vampire to have such impassioned friends.

"Ah, so you have it your way, then, Mistah Spike fliend," he groused, unlatching the door. He made a show of inviting the teenager and the Watcher into his meager home.

"I make tea," he told them, disappearing into his kitchen as Dawn pressed the door closed behind them.

"We're not on a social visit, Mr. Pao," Giles told the man, having no intention of letting a drop of that tea near his lips. "Just break the curse."

Giles heard the teapot crash to the floor in the other room. Mr. Pao took a minute to compose himself before returning to his guests. They were standing in his living room where he'd left them.

"You want..." He was having a hard time understanding these people. "You want Mistah Pao to take away vampile's sourl?"

He watched for their reactions.

"No... yes... " Giles removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What I want is some answers."

"Yeah, Bub! We want some answers!" Dawn spat at him. "You just don't go reinsouling every demon that eats too much chicken at your buffet. It's just... wrong!"

She could feel the weakness behind her words even as she was saying them. Soul? Spike had a soul?

"You gave him back his... soul?" she asked the amused little man.

"Ah, yes. I give Mistah Spike his sourl," he confirmed with a vigorous nod.

"But... I thought you... did you do something wonky with the soul?" she asked skeptically.

"Wonky?" Mr. Pao asked, not understanding the teenager's odd slang.

"Did you tie him to some sort of curse where if he gets a happy he goes all grrr?" she tried again.

"What the child is trying to ask is will the soul change him?" Giles interpreted.

"Yes," Mr. Pao confirmed. "Yes. Sourl make him whole. Make Chosen One rove him, rove his demon. Both."

"You cursed my sister ?" Dawn screamed, flinging herself at the older man.

Giles pulled her away from Mr. Pao who had taken the girl's reaction in stride.

"I curse no one," he told her angrily. "I come from... rong rine Chinese shaman... Pao act responsibry in the magicks. Mistah Spike..." Mr. Pao sighed and sat on his sofa. "Mistah Spike... his sourl... it was neverl compretery gone... just... what is the world?"

"World?" Dawn asked, confused. "Uh, planet? Earth?"

"No... to say... ah, Mistah Spike sourl... not awake."

"Are you saying..." Giles removed his glasses again, nervously polishing them on the tweed sleeve of his jacket. "Surely you can't mean that his soul had never... that it was there all along?"

"Dui," he confirmed in his native tongue. "Just needed... coaxing."

"But... why?" Giles asked incredulously. "Why would you bring out his soul?"

Mr. Pao was thoughtful for a moment. The vampire and the young girl had frequented his restaurant. It amazed him how he fell into humanity so effortlessly. He looked human, acted human and when Mr. Pao had finally gathered the nerve to perform a spell to read the vampire, he was shocked at what he found.

"Mistah Spike... he... not like other vampile... he diffelent. Special . He make Mistah Pao... angly. So, I rook into him. To see what she see," he explained, gesturing to Dawn. "I rook to find... deceit. Rie. But, Mistah Spike spirit is stlong. Is... faithful. So," he shrugged. "I give him what he want. I give him... what he think she want for him... what the Chosen One want."

"His soul," smiled Dawn. "And you're saying that there's no curse? That Spike can be completely happy and not lose his soul?"

"Sourl was never gone," he reminded her. "Just hidden."

Buffy went into the kitchen telling Spike she was checking on Tara and Willow. She truthfully just wanted to give him a few moments to himself. She'd only been gone five minutes when her cell phone rang. It was Giles.

"Tell Spike to stay put," he said, excitedly. "We have some good news."

"Like the fact that he's suddenly gone and grown a soul?" she guessed.

"I guess you lot have already sussed that out," Giles surmised. "It's an interesting story, actually..."

"One that ends in him going all Angelus on us? Or one that ends in puppies and Christmas?" Buffy prayed it was the latter.

"Well, it's certainly leaning toward the writhing piles of fur and mistletoe," Giles quipped.

Buffy went into the living room to tell Spike the good news, but he was gone. There was a slip of folded paper where he'd been sitting.

Buffy,

I need some time to deal with the ramifications that come with a century's worth of serial killings. I'm also afraid, Slayer... Buffy. I couldn't bear hurting you and Niblet. Can't be too sure this soul doesn't carry a curse that would make me go all Angelus on the people I love most. Until I can be sure that I'm not a danger to you, I can't risk being near. Know that I love you both. Happy Christmas, Love.

Spike

"Nooo!" she keened, falling to her knees. Tara and Willow ran from the kitchen to find their friend on the floor holding the crumpled paper to her chest. Tara pried it from her steely grip and read it quickly.

"It's okay, Buffy," she assured her. "He'll come back. He just wants to be sure."

While she appreciated Tara's calming demeanor, she couldn't help but want to run after Spike. And she still couldn't figure out why.

The door flung open and a breathless Dawn ran into the room looking for her best friend.

"Where is he?" she asked, eyes darting around the room before coming to rest on her sister.

"He... left," she said weakly. Tara handed Dawn the letter.

Giles looked just as amazed as Dawn.

"Didn't you tell him that it was good news?" he asked, wondering what could have made the vampire flee.

"I didn't get a chance," Buffy told them. "He was gone when I came back out. He's afraid he'll hurt us."

"He won't hurt us," Dawn cried. "We have to find him. Let's go to his crypt. And to Willy's. And... and the Bronze. You know how he loves the Blooming Onions there... and he is way so an emotional eater. I bet he's got a big plate of hot wings and a pitcher of beer and... and... that bloody onion... and... Buffy?"

Dawn was trying to reign in her tears. Buffy looked like she was going to cry, herself.

"I'll go look," she told them. "He left because of me. I'll go find him."

She returned three hours later empty handed. Clem had been watching TV when she arrived at Spike's crypt. He said Spike had taken a few things and then went to fetch the DeSoto. He promised to relay Buffy's message that he wasn't cursed if the stubborn vamp checked in. She'd made a pass of the cemeteries, the Bronze and Willy's even though she was pretty sure he wouldn't be there.

"He was just scared," Tara told her again, now knowing the whole story from Dawn and Giles. "He thought he was doing what was best for everyone."

"I wish we could do a locator spell of some sort," Dawn sighed. "They don't work on vamps, though, do they? You know, dead and all?"

Tara was thoughtful for a moment. No, they normally didn't work on the undead because they had no soul. But... Spike had a soul. She turned to Willow and raised her eyebrow. Willow immediately read what Tara was thinking.

"Lassie come home?" she smiled, hopeful that they could home in on Spike's soul.

"But he's... dead," Buffy reminded them.

"But he has a soul," Willow grinned.

Buffy looked at her friends and a slow smile made its way across her face. It could work.

"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve," Dawn reminded her. "He was going to spend Christmas with us, Buffy. He promised me that it would be like we were a family -- even if you insisted acting like Buffy McScrooge."

"Oh, so he called me a Scrooge twice now," Buffy interjected. "Am I sure I want him to come home?"

Dawn smiled. Buffy said home. She said Spike would be coming home.

"Do it," Buffy ceded. "Just... just bring him home for Christmas."

Tara nodded and reached for Willow's hands. The two witches chanted quietly while their friends watched. Within moments, a glowy orb appeared between them.

"Now what?" Buffy asked, watching the orb curiously.

"Follow the bouncing ball," Willow quipped.

"Really?" Dawn asked, eyes excited.

"Not quite," Tara laughed, softly. "This one is a little different."

She held out her hand and the orb settled in her palm, growing larger and more lucid.

"It's kind of like a crystal ball. We can see where he is," she told them. "Spike just received the biggest shock of his unlife. It wouldn't be right to push him so soon. He does need time to adjust. But we can make sure he's safe. We can keep an eye on him."

Tara sat on the couch, immediately flanked by Dawn and Buffy.

"Wh-what are we looking for?" the Slayer asked unsure of what the ball would hold.

Tara watched as the scene before her played out in her hand.

"The Slayer was here looking for you," Clem told his friend.

"Was she now?" Spike responded, trying to look uninterested. "Come here to play kick the Spike?"

"She was worried," the floppy-eared demon continued. "She said to tell you that you're not cursed."

Spike's head shot up at that. He narrowed his eyes on Clem's. Not cursed? He sure as Hell felt it.

"Why would the Slayer think you were cursed?" Clem asked cautiously. "Or, not cursed as it seems?"

Spike flopped down into his comfy chair and sighed heavily. Not cursed. That was good news. But the soul was tearing him in two. Literally. His demon was taunting him, making sure he remembered how much he enjoyed all of the kills. He never imagined that he could feel guilt to this degree.

"Grew me a soul," he sighed, avoiding Clem's eyes. "Hurts more than that damned conscience I've had all these years."

Clem's eyes were round with wonder. Spike had a soul? That was wonderful! That explained why the Slayer was so anxious to find him. She must really care about him.

"The Slayer was really upset that you weren't here," Clem smiled at him.

"Was she now?" Spike asked, wondering why Buffy was so upset when she knew he couldn't hurt anyone.

"Said something about Christmas and how you promised to make it good for Dawn," Clem continued. "And how you never break a promise."

Spike thought about that. No, he never broke a promise. He looked over at Clem and gave him a tight smile.

"Feel free to stick around and watch the telly if you like," he offered, standing. "Need to get me some kip, suss this out in the morning."

"He's okay," Buffy found herself releasing a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

Tara smiled and squeezed her hand.

"Maybe I should go--"

"No," Willow interrupted. "You need to give him some space. This is... unlife-changing. I mean, he's a vampire. And now he has this... this soul. That's got to make for the major wiggins."

Buffy knew she was right.

"Let's just... call it a night, you know, it being late and all. We can check on him tomorrow if you're still worried," Dawn tried, hoping her sister would let well enough alone.

She nodded. Sleep would definitely be of the good.

"Giles, don't forget -- Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow! And Buffy's not cooking," Dawn grinned.

"Then I will make it a point to be here," he smiled before bidding them all a good night.

Buffy drifted off faster than she thought she would.

"I love you, Slayer," she heard him say. "You're in my gut... my throat. I'm drowning in you, Summers. You can't tell me that there isn't anything between you and me. I know you feel something."

Buffy saw herself staring up at Spike, her eyes wide and glassy.

"I do," she tells him. "I... I don't know what it is, but I don't want to stake you anymore."

He grins and reaches out to caress her cheek.

"Don't want to rip out your pretty throat, either."

"Wh-what do you want to do?" she asks, licking her lips.

"This," he whispers, descending upon her lips and kissing her passionately.

Buffy sat up and gasped. That was so not how that went down. But things had changed so much since he chained her up and offered to kill Dru to prove his love to her.

She could hear his voice, rich like chocolate, whispering in her ear: you know you want to dance, Slayer. Just thinking about the sound of his voice made her body tingle. And those eyes, his sea-blue eyes boring into her just about brought her to her knees with desire.

"Buffy, Tara's making breakfast," Dawn called, rapping softly on her sister's closed door. "Pancakes in funny shapes," she sing-songed. "Cherry topping... whipped cream... Santa's White Christmas coffee from Barney's..."

Buffy smiled to herself and slipped on her slippers and robe. She opened her door to face the grinning teenager with a very serious expression.

"Dawnie," she whispered. "You had me at breakfast."

Dawn giggled at her sister's Jerry Maguire-ism. Non-Scroogy Buffy was definitely of the good.

Buffy swirled a forkful of pancake through a puddle of cherry topping. She thought about how much Spike liked food. She could just picture him lying on her bed while she drizzled cherry topping over his smooth chest. She could practically hear him hiss from the torturous pleasure of her tongue lapping the thick, red substance from his pebbled nipples.

"Buffy? Buffy? Are you listening to me?"

She snapped back to reality with heated cheeks and guilty eyes.

"Where the Hell were you?" Dawn asked in an annoyed tone as she caught the hint of pink in her sister's cheeks.

"I-I dunno," the Slayer lied, pushing the plate of evil cherries away from her.

"I was wondering if we should go check on Spike," Dawn repeated. "I'm worried about him. You know, he's all soul-having now. That's a pretty big thing."

"And that's exactly why we need to let him come to us," Buffy told her sister firmly. "If he wants to."

It was easy to tell Dawn the right thing to do. It was more difficult actually doing it. Buffy was more worried about the bleached menace than she cared to admit... even to herself. She busied herself with little holiday chores that would have made her mother proud. She deemed herself official eggnog tester, swiping spoonfuls of the creamy concoction from the punch bowl as Tara added more vanilla, more nutmeg and finally a hefty dousing of bourbon. She gave her thumbs-up as she filled a small cup and topped it off with just a bit more of the fiery brown liquid. Tara raised an eyebrow at her.

"What? It's Christmas Eve. I'm feeling festive," Buffy grinned impishly.

"Uh-huh," Tara nodded, getting the feeling that her friend was using the alcohol as a soothing balm for her frayed nerves.

Willow was busy slowly stirring the glaze for the rum cake on the front burner. Buffy came up behind her, resting her chin on the redhead's shoulder, to get a better look at the progress.

"Ohh! Yummy!" she grinned, proffering the spoon from her friend so that she could snare a fingerful of the buttery glaze from it.

She licked the cooling liquid from her finger and moaned.

"This is almost better than sex, Wills!" she beamed before scanning the kitchen for more things to get into.

"Buffy, where's the popcorn maker?" Dawn asked, as she began rummaging the cabinets.

Buffy shot her a puzzled look and pointed to the microwave.

"No, the popcorn maker. Remember how Mom would make a big bowl of popcorn and we'd sit around stringing garlands from it?" Dawn reminded her.

Buffy smiled at the memory.

"Try the cupboard above the refrigerator. You know, the one only you and Spike can reach," Buffy told her, her face falling a bit when she said his name.

Dawn stood on her tip-toes and flipped open the little cabinet.

"Pay dirt," she announced, pulling down the popcorn maker, a bag of unopened kernels and a bag of mini-marshmallows. "Guess this is where Mom hid Spike's special stash."

The kitchen came alive with the aroma of popping corn as the sisters watched the bowl quickly fill with the fluffy white kernels. They reminded her of Spike's hair. And how much he would love being part of this cozy little family moment. She would have loved him being there, she realized.

"I've got thread and needles," Tara called from the living room. "And Nat King Cole's Christmas album."

Buffy followed her sister out of the kitchen, giving one last smile to Willow as she began pouring rum glaze over the bundt cake. Dawn set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and sat down, focusing on threading her needle. "I Saw Three Ships" began streaming through the speakers and Buffy found herself singing along with it as she threaded her own needle.

Tara watched the Slayer out of the corner of her eye. She hadn't seen Buffy this happy since she'd come back from the grave. She continued to sneak peeks at her while she poked the pointy little needle through the little puffs of corn. Her aura had changed from day to day since they brought her back, but for the first time, Tara couldn't see any tinges of gray or sulphur. Instead, Buffy's aura was a pure pink with a golden halo. The pink flickered in and out, but Tara kept catching it. A soft smile spread across on her face as she realized that she knew something that not even Buffy knew. The Slayer was in love. And Tara made a decision.

She went into the kitchen and loudly told Willow that she needed to make a run to the store for currants. Willow told her that she would just call Xander and Anya and have them stop and pick them up.

"Um, what are currants, by the way?" she asked.

"Exactly," Tara smiled. "That's why I have to go."

She winked at Willow before speaking silently into her mind.

I'm going to see Spike, but I didn't want Dawn and Buffy to know -- I don't want them to get their hopes up just in case he decides not to come tonight.

I understand, Willow silently responded.

Spike turned the slim velvet box over in his hands. She was liable to laugh in his face when he saw her. Or punch him in the nose. She was always good for that. Yet, he still wanted to give her this gift, this special gift. He lifted his head and sniffed the air. Someone was approaching his crypt. Clem was still upstairs snoring softly on the couch. He knew it was at least noon because he could hear Passions buzzing quietly on the TV. He sniffed again and headed up to open the door. This one knew how to knock. Glinda.

"It's open, Love," he called, knowing that if he went anywhere near the path of sunlight that would filter in, he'd become dust. "Come on in."

Tara quickly let herself into the crypt and flashed a shy smile at him. He looked pretty good considering the huge shock he'd received the night before.

"I-I hope you don't mind me coming by," she whispered noticing the floppy-eared demon snoozing a few feet from her. "I was just worried."

Spike smiled at the witch's kindness. He always liked her.

"I appreciate it, Glinda," he smiled at her. "And you don't have to worry about me. Made some decisions last night. Important ones."

Tara nodded, not wanting to pry.

"I just wanted you to know that we really hope you'll come by tonight. It's Christmas Eve. And Dawn and Buffy... I know they would really be disappointed if you weren't there," she told him.

He ducked his head and she could have sworn that if he could have blushed, he would have.

"I'd never disappoint the Bit," he swore.

"I know that," Tara smiled. "I know that, William."

He looked up at her, surprised to hear his Christian name come from her lips. She looked around his head and tried to absorb the colors radiating from his aura. Pink, orange and sparks of bright green.

"What about Buffy?" she asked him, cautiously.

"What about her?" he asked, tilting his head to the side in question.

She tried to get a line into his mind so that she could let him know what she knew without saying the words.

Do you love Buffy?

"Glinda, are you playing the brain invasion game?" he asked, wondering what that was all about.

Answer the question, William.

"You know I do," he told her.

It was no secret. They'd all accused him of being in love with the Slayer at one time or another. It wasn't something he was going to deny. Especially not to Tara.

Tell her again.

"Now I'm beginning to think you're just off your bird," he laughed.

Tell her again.

"Why would I do that?" he asked, arms crossing defensively in front of his newly ensouled chest. "All she'll do is threaten my bits and pieces. Or -- or punch me in the nose. You know how the chit likes to play kick the Spike."

Tell. Her. Again.

He watched the the sparkle in Tara's eyes as she kept them locked onto his. He'd tell her again. Just once more.

"Now, I'm supposed to be picking up a pound of currants," she told him, turning back toward the door. "Thought a newly ensouled vampire might have a sweet tooth for plum pudding tomorrow."

She reached out and surprised him by pulling him into a gentle embrace.

"Don't disappoint us... William," she reminded him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before leaving his crypt.

"Son of a bitch!" the Slayer cursed as a pinprick of blood bubbled out of her finger.

She'd pricked her finger four times and had eaten more popcorn than she actually strung, yet the smile never left her face. Dawn looked up at the latest curse and frowned.

"Slayers who say bad words get coal in their stockings, Buffy," she teased.

"You know," Buffy began, raising an eyebrow at her sister. "You're beginning to sound more and more like Spike every day."

Dawn waited for the other shoe to fall... the one that carried the foot that kicked her ass. But it never did. Buffy left the statement alone, never adding a negative ending to it that had to do with stakes, dust or a day in the sun.

Tara slipped back into the house carrying a grocery bag several hours after setting out to run her final errands. Willow had called her twice to add to her grocery list and Anya had called to get the details on the newly ensouled vampire. Apparently, Willow had placed a call to Xander while she was gone and he was still reeling from the fact that Captain Peroxide had grown a soul. The sisters were just as she left them and Buffy's aura hadn't changed. Xander and Anya were running up the walk behind her.

"Merry Christmas!" Xander bellowed, pulling Tara into a hug.

"We come bearing over-priced presents and copious amounts of frothy ale," Anya announced, clearly trying her best to get into the Christmas spirit.

"I thought we agreed not to mention the cost of things, Ahn?" Xander whispered loudly.

Anya shrugged and pushed her way into the room, immediately spying the Christmas tree and placing gifts beneath it. Xander caught her shaking a few that likely had her name on them, as well.

"So, where's G-Man?" Xander asked, not noticing that the Watcher had slipped in behind him.

"Xander, how many times must I--" Giles sighed and shook his head. 'Why bother? I'm right here... er, Xan-Man."

"That was just too weird," Buffy said with a giggle.

"Giles, have you already been dipping into the holiday nog?" Dawn joked, standing to greet the man who had become a father to her and her sister.

"No, Dawn," he assured her. "There just comes a time in one's life when he must realize that some things just aren't going to change. So, I've chosen to accept and move past."

"I can relate to that."

Giles turned to see Spike standing in the doorway, his hair reflecting the glow of the multi-colored lights he and Dawn had set to hanging the night before.

"Spike," Giles smiled, trying his best to be friendly to the vampire who had once tried to kill his Slayer. "Happy Christmas... mate."

"Happy Christmas to you, Rupert," he smiled uneasily.

"You gonna hover in the doorway all night, or do you plan on actually coming in and injecting us with you snarky quips up close and personal-like?" Xander shot at him.

Spike wasn't sure whether or not that was an actual invite and looked to the Summers sisters for help.

"I vote for coming in," Dawn piped up.

His eyes darted to Buffy's, waiting for her to make some sort of snotty comment.

"I agree," she smiled, to his surprise. "Coming in. Definitely of the good."

He closed the door behind him and removed his duster, hanging it over the banister.

"We've got eggnog," Tara offered.

"Or some girly microbrew Anya picked up on the way here," Xander said, making a face.

"Hey! You were the one who said that the cranberry ale was nummy," Anya accused. "Oh yes. He called it nummy. "

"You make the nog, Glinda?" he asked.

"I did," she smiled.

"And believe me," Buffy grinned, holding up her third cupful of the creamy beverage. "It's the best nog you'll ever have in your entire life. I was the official nog-tester."

He couldn't help but crack a smile as Tara placed a cup of it in his hands. He couldn't recall ever seeing the Slayer look so happy. She was positively glowing... effulgent .

Buffy moved the bowl of popcorn from between herself and Dawn and patted the vacant spot.

"Come. Sit," she told him, her smile never wavering.

He approached the seat slowly, not used to Buffy being so nice to him. Dawn wrapped her arms around him as soon as he sat down and kissed his cheek.

"Guess you got your present early, huh?" she smiled.

That, he had.

"Oops!" Willow grinned, holding a sprig of mistletoe between the vampire and the Slayer. "Pucker up. It's tradition."

Buffy looked up to see the redhead's resolve face firmly in place. She turned to Spike and reached out for his hand.

"It is tradition," she told him. "Besides, I can't resist Willow's resolve face."

Spike looked up at the beaming witch and shrugged.

"Guess I can't argue with that kind of logic," he agreed. "It is a pretty irresistible resolve face. And I'm all for tradition."

He leaned in nervously, surprised when Buffy met him half-way. Her lips brushed over his softly and he stilled, waiting for her to pull away when she realized what she was doing. Instead, she pressed her mouth over his and cupped his cheek in her warm hand. She gently sucked in his bottom lip and nuzzled his nose before pulling away. Her face was still inches from him, her eyes shining bright.

"Merry Christmas, William," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Love," he smiled back.

"Euw! So not what I need to see on this, the holiest of eves," Xander winced, holding up a hand to shield him from the sight of his friend kissing the evil undead. "Does the word demon mean anything to you, Buff?"

Anya noisily cleared her throat.

"One interdimensional phone call and you'll experience just how much of a demon I can be first-hand, Xander Harris," she threatened.

After dinner, Giles was the first to excuse himself for the evening promising to return bearing a sack of gifts, not unlike St. Nick himself, in the morning. Xander and Anya left shortly after she made a loud comment about a marabou-trimmed red velvet bustier being in Xander's very near future. Willow and Tara ended up practically carrying a knackered Dawn up to her room even though the teen had insisted repeatedly that she was not tired.

"Looks like we're all alone, Slayer," Spike smirked, his thoughts drifting to the inside pocket of his duster where the slim velvet box was tucked safely away.

"So I've noticed," Buffy smiled, snuggling a little closer to him.

"Slayer," he began, needing some answers. "Buffy... what's... what's going on here?"

She sighed, not wanting the magical feeling of the day to end. He deserved some answers, though. And she knew that she had to face her feelings sooner or later. May as well be sooner. She got up from the sofa and crouched beneath the Christmas tree, digging through the piles of brightly wrapped presents until she found a long, flat box wrapped in blue paper dotted with little snowmen. She went back to the couch and held it out to him.

"What's this?" he asked, his head cocked to the side in question.

"It's what we humans call a Christmas present," she said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. "I'm sure you've gotten one before."

"Yeah," he breathed, his eyes shining with emotion. "Long time ago when I was one."

"One what?" she asked, sitting beside him.

"Human," he replied, holding up the package to get a better look at the paper.

Each of the little snowmen had carefully drawn red-tipped fangs. He chuckled, figuring the resident artist to be Dawn.

"Like the little snow-vamps?" Buffy asked with a grin. "Drew them myself."

He was surprised.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Open your present," she urged him.

He carefully peeled off the wrapping paper with every intention of saving the Slayer's artistic endeavor. He opened the top of the box to find a card made of folded red construction paper with a little tree cut from a triangle of green paper glued to the center. Buffy had taken the time to draw little ornaments and had even topped it with a crudely drawn star. He opened it and read it aloud.

Slayer blood is red

Royal blood is blue

Bet you're not surprised

That I write bloody awfuller

Poetry than you.

Spike couldn't help but let out a loud laugh. He had never read anything so bloody awful in all his unlife. And he absolutely adored it. He set the card on the coffee table and began peeling back the tissue paper. Beneath it, was a framed photo of Buffy and Dawn smiling brightly for the camera. He held the carved mahogany frame in his hands not believing what he was seeing. Once upon a time he'd had to steal photos of his favorite girl. Now she was giving him one freely.

"Tara took it," she told him. "Last week."

He looked at her and couldn't hide his surprise. She had decided to give him a gift before he got his soul back?

"There's another one," she told him, pointing to a leather-bound book that had been hidden underneath the picture.

He pulled the book from the box and ran his fingers lightly over it. It was a simple black leather book with a small infinity symbol embossed in silver at the center of the cover.

"It's a journal," she told him. "Because you like to write."

"Buffy, this is... I'm... I..."

"Speechless, huh?" she joked. "That would be a first. So, where's mine?"

"Your what?"

She frowned and folded her arms across her chest.

"My present," she persisted.

"Was I supposed to get you a present?" he teased. "Tell me, Slayer... have you been naughty or nice?"

Buffy thought about it for a moment before responding.

"Depends on what you got me," she said, flashing him a wicked grin. "I can be very nice. Or naughty, if you prefer."

The Slayer was flirting . He couldn't believe it. She was flirting . With him . He got up and crossed the room to the staircase to retrieve her gift from his duster pocket. He looked down at the box in his hands one last time before turning to give it to her and remembered Tara's words. Tell her again.

He joined her on the couch and placed the box in her hand. She stared at it for a moment without making a move to open it.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, suddenly wondering if giving her this gift was a mistake.

"This is a jewelry box," she said quietly.

"That, it is," he confirmed.

She slowly lifted the lid and stared at the locket suspended from a gold chain nestled within. He couldn't read the expression on her face. She ran her finger over the raised detailing of the locket's face. It was an ornate carving of a tiny bird on a branch.

"Open it," he whispered, slipping his arm behind her back.

She took the locket from its casing and set the box on the table in front of her. She gently pried apart the hinged pieces and gasped as she looked into the smiling face of her mother.

"Asked Dawn if there might be a picture of your Mum small enough to fit into this," he told her, letting her know that Dawn had been in on the secret.

"It's beautiful, Spike," she choked out. "Put it on me, please?"

She closed the locket and handed it to him. She lifted her hair from her neck so that he could fasten the tiny gold clasp at her nape.

"Just so you know, I didn't nick it," he swore to her. "It was my Mum's. Saved a few things of hers, I did. Means something, too."

"It means the world to me," she sighed.

"No, it actually means something, Kitten," he smiled at her, his hand lingering on her warm skin as her hair fell over it. "It's a Swallow. And back in my time, a bird signified winged soul, eternal life. I'd like to think of your Mum as a winged soul."

"You mean the world to me," she tried again as tears coursed down her cheeks.

He took an unnecessary breath and stared into her glistening green eyes. Tell her again.

"Buffy," he said, narrowing his eyes on hers. "I love you."

He ducked his head down waiting for her to tell him that he couldn't or that he shouldn't. He waited for her to tell him to take it back or that he ruined the moment. Instead, he felt her hand cupping his chin, beckoning him to meet her gaze.

"Hey," she said quietly. "Look at me."

He looked up at her, waiting for her to tell him that she couldn't love him and that he should go.

"Look at me and tell me again," she begged him.

"I... I love you, Buffy."

"I love you, too, Spike."

She stood up and reached for his hand. He was still too stunned from her admission to move.

"Come on, Spike," she said to him. "It's getting late. Santa won't come if everyone's not in bed."

He nodded and stood looking between her and the door with uncertainty etched in his features.

"I should be going then. Let you get some kip," he smiled. "Sure the Bit will be up bright and early digging for her prezzies."

Buffy grabbed his hand and held it tightly.

"I meant that you should be in my bed," she clarified. "With me."

He followed her up the stairs as if he were in a trance. He stared at the back of her head, long strands of gold spilling down her back like spun sugar. She had told him that she loved him. He followed her through her open bedroom door and stood in the center of her room as she locked it behind them. He never imagined that she would ever invite him inside her house, inside her room, inside her.

Buffy lifted the red cashmere sweater over her head, tossing it on the floor behind her. She unzipped the shirt grey pleated skirt and let it fall to her feet. She stepped out of it and slipped off her shoes leaving her clad only in a dark red bra and matching thong.

Spike hadn't moved at all. His jaw was slack, his eyes wide at the sight in front of him. Had he breathed, she would have taken his breath away. Still, he had to know.

"When?" he whispered, knowing he wouldn't care if it hadn't been until he grew his soul back.

Love's bitch. Soul or not, that wasn't going to change. He had waited too long for her to say those words to turn back now.

"Always, I think," she admitted.

"It's the soul," he told her, giving her an excuse.

"No," she averred, closing the space between them. "It's you. It's always been you."

He ran his hands lightly up her arms, tracing the warm golden skin with his fingertips. She was everything he had ever wanted and more. His Slayer. His girl. His Buffy.

She stood on her toes, resting her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes were fixed on his and he saw all the truth he needed to know in them. He dipped down his head and gently pressed his lips against hers, letting her set the pace. Her mouth opened immediately, bubble-gum pink tongue darting out to taste the lush fullness of his bottom lip. Her hands were pulling at the hem of his t-shirt wanting nothing to stand between her skin and his. She broke their kiss to pull the offending garment over his head and then moved to unbuckle his belt with trembling hands.

"Kitten," he whispered, moving his hands to help her complete her task.

He toed off his boots while his fingers worked to quickly unbutton his jeans. He stepped out of them and stood before her gloriously naked.

"Seems to me one of us is wearing too many clothes," he teased.

Buffy moved her hands to unclasp her bra, but he stopped her.

"No, Baby... let me," he pleaded.

She nodded her consent and he reached around her back to unclasp her bra. His cool mouth moved to her collarbone, peppering it with wet kisses. Her breasts bounced free as the bra fell away from her body and his eyes moved to drink in the beauty of her nearly-naked form. He dipped his head even lower, latching onto a tawny nipple. Buffy gasped at the sensation of cold on hot, his mouth on her heated flesh. She arched into him as his tongue drew circles around her pebbled nipple.

Her hand slid into his platinum curls and held him tightly to her breast never wanting him to stop his ministrations.

"Oh, God... Spike... yesss..." she hissed.

"Love you so much, Buffy," he vowed, trailing kisses down her belly.

His fingers latched onto the sides of her panties and pulled them down her legs. His lips and tongue never lost contact with her skin as he helped her step out of her undergarments. The scent of her arousal flooded his senses. He backed her toward the bed and gently lay her down. He knelt in front of heras if she was his golden goddess and he was her faithful disciple.

"So beautiful," he breathed.

He felt her hands stroking his head lovingly. She was staring down at him, her green eyes shining with desire.

"Spike... need you... now..." she begged. "Please... I need you in me."

"Gonna make love to you, Baby," he told her, kissing a line down her jaw to her delicate throat.

His demon was awakened by the thrum of her strong pulse and the scent of her rich blood. He willed it back down wanting to make love to her as a man their first time.

"I-- I want to be inside of you," she told him, uncertain of what his reaction would be.

He stilled, not sure what she meant.

"Spike," she tried again, tilting her head to the side to give him better access to her neck.

He stared down at his grand-sire's mark and growled, his eyes flickering gold.

"Spike," she repeated. "I want to be inside of you... and I want you inside of me. Please... erase them."

He was stunned.

"Kitten, I don't think--"

"Don't think, Baby," she pleaded. "The only marks I want on me are yours. Please... I love you, Spike. And I trust you."

He felt his face slip from human guise at her declaration. His fangs elongated as he breathed in her intoxicating scent. She ran her fingers lightly over the ridges in his forehead, silently telling him that she loved all of him and that she wasn't afraid.

He was trying to control his demon so that it wouldn't take her roughly like it wanted. He took a few deep pulls on her blood before he let his fangs retract and his features smooth. He licked the twin punctures to help them heal. Buffy's hips began bucking hard against him and he felt the exquisite sensation of her release taking him with her.

He licked his mark and whispered the word 'mine.'

Buffy dipped her head down to capture his lips in hers in a reassuring kiss.

"Yours," she swore.

Her eyes rolled shut and she smiled as her vampire began purring contentedly against her sated body.

"It's Christmas!! It's Christmas!!! Get up!!!"

Dawn's voice permeated every wall in the Summers' house, sounding more like that of a five year-old who had been fed too much sugar than that of a young woman and ancient key.

"Morning, Love," Spike smiled into Buffy's golden hair.

"Mmm... Merry Christmas, Baby," she replied, a sleepy smile curving her lips.

"Get up! Get up!" Dawn continued to screech gleefully, taking the time to bang on her sister's door as well as the door to the witches' bedroom.

"I'm up, I'm up!" Buffy heard Willow groggily reply. Willow's bedroom door creaked open. "And Tara's MIA, so I'll assume she's already in the kitchen whipping up muffiny goodness of some sort."

"And coffee," Dawn reminded her. "Santa's White Christmas. Which reminds me... BUFFY!!! GET UP!!!"

Spike was out of bed and slipping on his jeans before Buffy could even form a coherent thought. He opened up her dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of flannel pajamas.

"Here, Pet," he said, tossing them to her. "Better get covered before Niblet huffs and puffs and blows down your door."

Buffy quickly clothed herself as Dawn pounded on her door again.

"I'm counting to three and then I'm picking the lock," Dawn warned her sister.

"Little something she learned from you?" Buffy asked Spike with a raised eyebrow.

Spike unlocked the door and opened it, greeting a surprised Dawn with a shy smile.

"Merry Christmas, Bit," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

Dawn's eyes darted between her sister and her best friend. Smiling. They were both smiling. And Buffy wasn't acting all wiggy about Spike being in her room. Buffy grabbed Spike's hand and pulled him out into the hallway.

"What are you doing?" Dawn asked staring at them.

"Uh, getting up? Going downstairs? Taking back your presents if you don't stop asking stupid questions?" Buffy responded sarcastically.

Dawn followed Spike and Buffy down the stairs trying to figure out what was going on.

"Okay, did you two get possessed by Bob Marley and the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future last night?" Dawn asked warily.

"Jacob Marley," Spike corrected. "And no."

"Coffee," Buffy sighed, breathing in its delicious aroma. "Definitely of the good."

She let go of Spike's hand and headed toward the kitchen. He was right on her heels and Dawn on his.

"And a mug of O negative at ninety eight point six," Tara smiled as they entered the kitchen, handing Spike a floral-patterned mug. "I have a friend at the blood bank," she winked as his eyebrow shot up in question. "Merry Christmas."

"Okay, still not with the answering of my many unasked questions," Dawn persisted.

"Leave them alone, Dawnie," Willow gently admonished. "They're... they're in love. And, you know, people tend to get all wiggy when they're hit with the new love thing." She turned to Tara and kissed her cheek. "Right, Baby?"

"Maybe you should let Buffy and Spike tell us themselves, Honey," Tara suggested to her overzealous girlfriend.

Spike wasn't sure what to say. He was half-expecting the Slayer to ball up and try and deny how she felt about him. Then his eyes strayed to the healing punctures on her neck. There was no denying them.

"No secret that I love your sister with every fiber of my being, Pidge," he reminded Dawn.

He had never kept any secrets from her.

All eyes were on Buffy as she unconsciously brought her hand to her neck. She ran her fingers over Spike's claim and closed her eyes. She could feel him all around her. She opened her eyes and looked straight into his anxious blue gaze. Dawn wanted a family for Christmas. More than anything, Buffy knew that's what her sister wanted the most.

Buffy went to Spike's side and brushed her lips tenderly against his. Turning back to her sister and friends she saw them looking at the marks on her neck, each girl with her own expression of surprise and acceptance.

"And I love Spike," Buffy finally told them. "He had faith in me even when I couldn't find the strength to have faith in myself."

"Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to," Spike smiled, holding his arms out to his two favorite girls. "Looks like St. Nick is still working in mysterious ways."

Dawn and Buffy tucked happily into Spike's embrace. Spike folded his arms around his girls, his eyes shining.

"Silly vampire," Buffy giggled. "Still believing in Santa Claus."

Dawn snuggled between her sister and her best friend, warm tears spilling joyfully down her cheeks at the best Christmas present of all: a family.

"I believe," Dawn whispered. "I believe... even though it's silly, I believe."


End file.
